


Tangled Threads

by geoblock



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: First Time, M/M, One Shot, Porn Without Plot, TRK spoilers, good old fashioned smut, my first trc fic, the best ship in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geoblock/pseuds/geoblock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is leaving for college too soon, and he has to deal with Ronan's founded feelings of abandonment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Threads

**Author's Note:**

> So... my first TRC fic! It has to be pynch, obviously. Second warning: there are Raven King spoilers, so beware! I love these two too much <3

Though Adam had been counting down to the day for five years, it tasted bittersweet. College had always been a distant fantasy, an idolized idea far from double shifts and grease-smeared hands. It was the beautiful other; a life after trailers and cardboard furniture. Future Adam had landed the hurdles, traversed the distance, and made it. He’d picked up and shards that Henrietta had chipped from him, dusting off the dirt and supergluing himself a new form. 

One summer turned to a month, a month to a week. Gansey was proud, concerned, reluctant; making up for the traditional paternal representation that Adam lacked. If he really wanted to stick with familial metaphors, that made Blue the ‘cool aunt’. She made jokes of drunken mistakes to come, recognizing Adam’s attempts to stumble and trip his way into adulthood. It was what they were all doing, really. There were some shared experiences that had aged them beyond measuring; the sight of Gansey’s corpse would never truly leave the back of Adam’s mind. But there were still taxes to pay, important phone calls to make—the plethora of mundane tasks that seemed to serve as tripwires for the ‘growing up’. 

Adam changed gears in Hondayota, his ears pricking to the clumsy slip and clunk of the protesting gearbox. He was still undecided as to how to deal with the car. Its resell value wouldn’t be more than two hundred dollars, even with the work Adam had thrown into maintaining it. Selling it for parts and scrap metal was an option too. But there was something guilt inducing about the idea of breaking down a gift to pieces; even if a better gift would be the padding out of his college savings.  
He half expected the car to die most days, and was still pleasantly surprised when he arrived at his set destination with no trouble. In this case, his target was Nino’s, and the car sputtered to the nearest empty space with its dignity mostly intact.

Adam found it funny how much prettier things became when knowingly viewed for the last time, and Adam caught himself romanticising the neon blue pizzeria sign, and the morose light it in which it cast the carpark. Hands in his jean jacket—thrown over work overalls—he stepped inside the restaurant. The table was hard to miss; Gansey gesticulating madly, Henry laughing raucously, Blue lingering in her work uniform, trying to ignore the other tables in waiting. Ronan was quiet, watching the conversation with an eyebrow raised, but contributing nothing. Adam had warned them all he’d be late, but couldn’t repress reflexive guilt at being the last to arrive.  
The whole affair had been Gansey’s idea. For such a schemer, he struggled with basic logistics and deadlines; preferring to concoct a glorious idea of a going away feast, no holds barred. It was though he’d forgotten that the culinary skills of his dysfunctional family were limited to ramen and mashed potatoes—and no, Blue, transferring yogurt from container to bowl wasn’t cooking. 

So they’d downsized the plan to pizza at Nino’s, avoiding talk of splitting the bill until they were presented with it. Opal was tucked in bed at Fox Way, utterly spoilt by doting psychics who were also currently mourning the loss of Blue’s childhood. 

“Hey.” Adam announced himself, sliding into the space left for him beside his brooding boyfriend. He was greeted casually, with a little more bubbling enthusiasm than usual from everyone (bar Ronan). The experience seemed to be novel again; the group’s last Nino’s evening for the next year at most. 

As Gansey launched into chatter of talk of backpacking landmarks; Henry added notes on drinking ages of each country Gansey mentioned. Adam listened well humouredly, but still found his right hand distracted in its search under the table for Ronan’s. When their skin met, fingers interlocking, Adam’s neck tingled warmly—like it always did. All it seemed to take was the feeling of Ronan’s skin on his, Ronan’s eyes meeting his, the pout of ‘Parrish’ on Ronan’s lips and Adam got the swooping feeling in his stomach again; not unlike how he’d felt going over speed bumps in the Hondayota before he’d replaced the shock absorbers. 

“I ordered an olive pizza as well as the normal. You know, this being such a prestigious occasion.” Gansey pointed at Adam.

Only Gansey—whose mind was entangled in grand escapades and adventures—had the space to also tuck away Adam’s being partial to olives.  
Henry wrinkled his nose, “Olives are an abomination.”

Ronan’s fingers danced a little in Adam’s hand, it was a subconscious twitch, indicating his movement to speak, “I’ve heard olives straight off the tree are poisonous.” He quipped.

Adam glanced across at his boyfriend; and Adam tingled once more. The sensation refused to dull.

“I like a little bit of danger.” Adam teased, earning a rare upward flicker at the corners of Ronan’s sculpted lips. 

Adam often thought that if Gansey’s mind was a detective’s corkboard—symbols, images and hints entangled in red yarn, only decipherable to its creator—then Ronan’s thoughts were a sound check in an empty theatre. Blaringly loud, suddenly silent—tuning, fiddling; struggling to find equilibrium amongst wires, dials and cables. Potential sound, energy, blaring force constantly bubbling under the surface and he watched as the boy struggled tune himself into a frequency bearable to human ears. 

Adam knew Ronan’s mind, but then he knew nothing. He could guess as to what Ronan would be feeling—isolation, trepidation, worry—and he knew these emotions justified Ronan’s increasing withdrawal in recent weeks. But then, he was withdrawn, and he was not. He still contributed to conversation, swore like a trooper, and expressed his love in weak insults. But there was an ‘offness’, a coolness surrounding his boyfriend. If Adam was asked to provide an example, he couldn’t. But it was there; he and Gansey had discussed as much.

“He knows we’re all coming back, and he knows we’re not doing it to spite him.” Gansey had reasoned, “But that doesn’t ease separation pains.”

They all felt it though; only as they’d begun to pull away, did they realize how tightly they were entwined. Ronan and Adam’s feelings for each other formed a particularly large clump of the mess. Not that Adam ever wanted to untangle it—Adam considered him a lottery winner and beyond to have received Ronan’s intense affection—but the little hooks were embedded, and it hurt. There was the twist of bitterness to the sweet sundae of college entry; Adam’s long-awaited departure tainted by something Adam could never see as a hindrance. 

The pizza arrived, and Adam teased Henry by moaning appreciatively into his slice of olive pizza. Blue had managed to break away, and was back at the table—slipping in beside Gansey with more contact than necessary. 

Gansey responded by planting a pizza greased kiss on Blue’s temple, which she rolled her eyes at.

“Christ, get a room.” Ronan complained.

Blue smirked, “One of the benefits of having a boyfriend that refuses to obey the laws of linear time—he’s already made love to me a thousand times.”

This was a fun little game Ronan and Blue had started over the summer. Both parties made increasingly lewd comments, boasting of their partners’ sexual prowess, until either Adam or Gansey turned a convincing shade of pink from embarrassment. Then they’d both cackle evilly, before hurricane-ing the conversation in a rapidly different direction. 

Though many of Ronan’s comments were hyperboles solely for the purpose of winning the mini-showdowns, they weren’t entirely unfounded. Ronan and Adam hadn’t gone the whole way yet, but there’d been some passionate making out in the back of the Hondayota, or in the fifteen minutes they had between Opal falling asleep and Adam’s next shift. 

Time, lack of privacy, and summer hours were contributing factors—but as college loomed, it began to play on Adam’s mind more frequently. Previously he’d entertained romantic fantasies, but now his thoughts were mostly logistical; when could he get an hour with Ronan? Should it be at the Barns? Could they send Opal to Fox Way? Did Adam still have those free condoms from Aglionby sex ed?

Ronan hastily swallowed a mouthful of pizza before responding, “Who needs time wibbly wobbly when your boyfriend has magical hands?” Adam could feel his face begin to heat.

“Anyway—” Adam was glad Gansey cut in, “Let’s take a moment to celebrate, the next slice—” Gansey held a pizza slice aloft to illustrate his pun, “of life we have been served! Here’s to college, farming, and backpacking!”

They toasted with a slice each, and Henry gave a gentle ‘hear hear’ in agreement. 

Chatter ensued, drifting lightly between subjects, jokes and musings. Adam’s rock in the conversation was how tightly Ronan held his hand under the table, as though their skin had knitted and he couldn’t pull away.

****************************************************************

Ronan walked Adam to his car—an act of old-fashioned courting that simultaneously suited and didn’t suit Ronan Lynch. Their hands were still interlocked lightly, swinging lightly as they made the whole ten yard walk.

Adam still wasn’t entirely familiar with the slower side of Ronan, one he was lucky to be exposed to. Adam supposed this was Ronan alone; no Gansey to witness him, no Blue to hype him up. Adam was flattered that he was considered Ronan’s alone time, a presence with whom Ronan felt entirely comfortable. But he couldn’t be the only one between them whose heart seemed to stutter with accidental eye contact, or felt his breathing hitch in relation to closing proximity. 

When they stopped at the door of the Hondayota, Adam had to repress the urge to place his palm over the other boy’s chest, sampling the speed and pace of the heart beneath.

“I’m sorry I can’t come to the Barns.” Adam was too used to apologies, and it was a habit he couldn’t kick.

Ronan leaned against the Hondayota, folding his arms in a stance that was defensive on anyone else but him, “Don’t apologise.” The reprimand was harsh on anyone else but him. 

Adam felt more frustrated than usual at his impending six am shift. He’d always known work was inevitable evil, but seeing the muted disappointment on his boyfriend’s face only made it sting in new ways. 

“Tomorrow night.” He promised, more to himself, “I’ll be there.”

But the words weren’t enough, and Adam slipped his hand behind Ronan’s neck; pulling their mouths tightly together. Ronan was a tightly coiled spring, and tension and movement springing alive when their lips met. His hands previously still, now struggling to find their spot; knotted in Adam’s hair, dancing down his sides, tugging his overalls, skimming his ass teasingly. They were their own climate; heated and humid. Adam sealed his promises with his lips, mouthing the words against Ronan’s. 

The kiss slowed to a halt, but Ronan’s lips still rested against Adam’s—he could feeling them curve into a delicious smile that served as a perfect dessert.

“You’re a filthy tease, Parrish.” Ronan murmured, and Adam didn’t realize he’d already been smiling until he felt it grow. 

Ronan untangled his hands from Adam, and the latter stepped back for air. Opening the car door for his boyfriend, Ronan gave a courteous bow as Adam took his place in the driver’s seat. Twisting the key in ignition, the tape that always sat in deck burst to life—halfway through Adam’s favourite mixtape from his favourite person. 

“Christ, Parrish, what’s that racket?” Ronan teased, and Adam rolled his eyes in response.

“Tomorrow.” He promised once more, and Ronan nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

***************************************************************

Adam didn’t own many material possessions, but he hadn’t realized how little made up his life until he packed it into a suitcase. The suitcase itself was on indefinite loan from Gansey, who’d claimed he’d just ‘had it lying around’. The lie hadn’t been a very convincing one to begin with, only confirmed by Gansey forgetting to cut the tags off.

What the suitcase didn’t show, however, was the experiences that had shaped Adam so delicately over the past year. The clothes were a little more worn, some rips and stains added to their collection. But it failed to illustrate how distanced Adam felt from his past self; before Cabeswater, before demons, and before Ronan.  
Knowing how little time and reason had to do with another, Adam often fantasized of sending a letter back to himself, mulling over its contents when he couldn’t fall asleep. But he wasn’t trying to fall asleep now, and he doubted he could if he tried. Instead he was carefully peeling back layers of clothes for tomorrow’s outfit, and his pyjamas. He wanted to go to Ronan’s, and have no reason to leave. 

It was nearing sundown, which seemed to be creeping earlier into the day as summer neared its last run. Adam had to don the sunglasses Ronan had left in his car to shield himself from orange rays, lying at the perfect angle to blind him as he wrestled the Hondayota to the Barns. Adam was sure the engine ran purely on gasoline and Adam’s sheer willpower—now more than ever. It was a relief to finally cross the threshold to the property, tires crackling across uneven gravel of the driveway. 

Adam seemed to tingle in this space; his ties to the ley lines sensed its kind here—its own matter twisted and formed into new and fantastic shapes by the Greywaren. Ronan was born to the ley line, Adam was married into the fold—still awkwardly translating the mixed messages it tried to share with him. But he could feel its presence, its energy; it was the same feeling as being held by a protective gaze.

The door to the house was unlocked, and Adam didn’t feel uncomfortable in taking his shoes off; settling himself into the space. Ronan was absent from the first floor, and Adam decided to take his backpack to Ronan’s room—strengthening his intentions for the evening. 

But then half way up the stairs Adam heard a splash and Ronan’s growl, 

“Quit it, brat! You’ve got to wash—” there was another splash, “You stink! You need to clean yourself!”

Adam was on the landing now, and Ronan burst out of the bathroom, his arms sudsy and clothing soaked.

“Parrish!” Ronan stopped short, sounding pleasantly taken aback.

“It’s tomorrow.” Adam responded lamely, but he felt no pressure to exchange witticisms.

“It is. Just let me wrestle the brat—”

There was a cry from the bathroom, more crow than human, “Is that Adam? Is Adam here?” 

Adam always wondered if Opal represented a part of Ronan, tucked away in his dream world. She was everything Ronan never let himself be; childlike, vulnerable, afraid, sheltered. 

“I’ll only read you a story if you wash yourself.” Adam called through the door, and the sound of skin scrambling on the enamel of the bath, 

“Five minutes!” Opal called excitedly, and Ronan sighed.

*********************************************************

Adam had read the same picture book three times over, and Opal only seemed to get more excited with each reading. He finally closed the book gently, promising warm milk and another story in the morning if she went to sleep without a fuss. 

They made a pinkie promise over it, and Adam’s heart melted as he watched Opal squeeze her eyes tightly shut; forcefully willing herself to sleep. 

Ronan was waiting on the sofa, tapping his fingers and feet in a beat without rhythm, bouncing his leg in agitated prestissimo. 

He didn’t turn when Adam entered, but said all the same, 

“’Spose I can’t call favours like that when you’re two hours away.”

It was a bitter observation, but Adam preferred that Ronan didn't hold it in.

“I’ll be back for all holidays.” Adam reasoned, negotiating himself to the space beside Ronan. “You and Opal can visit whenever. She’d probably love the big city.”

“She’ll hate the city as much as me.” Ronan replied, but the attempt at blunt honesty fell short. 

Ronan sighed, before raising his wrist for his mouth, chewing anxiously on the leather bands. Adam felt a twinge of envy, until he realised he was being envious of straps of leather. 

“This isn’t the end between all of us and the ley line. It’s still here, still asking and talking, needing…”

Ronan nodded, “I know. There’s more to do, there always will be. But it’s watching you all leave, that’s difficult. I know you’ll be back. But that doesn’t make it easier.”

Adam saw Ronan’s rough edges, his cracks and sharp corners. He saw Ronan’s internal wrestling match; emotion and logic. Ronan knew they weren’t finished, nothing was. Adam could imagine his mantra as he tried to battle feelings of abandonment; that his family would never truly leave—they were all too tied to the ley line with its tasks unending.

“I have something for you.” Ronan said suddenly, leaping into action. From somewhere behind him, Ronan produced something crystal thin, dark and flat; catching the dream lights in each corner of the room. It wasn’t until Ronan placed it into Adam’s awaiting arms that Adam realized it was a laptop, too cold and quiet to be every day. 

“Ronan—”

“No monetary transaction involved.” Ronan cut in, “You need one for college either way.”

Adam opened the lid and it sprung to life, the screen glowing softly. Adam was sure if he pried the thing open it would be hollow, and there was no discernible charging port. 

“Consider it a belated birthday gift.” Ronan said again. “Also, the webcam is high definition and it already has Skype.”

Adam tried to bat away his fear of charity, recognizing the item as much for Ronan as it was for him. 

“Thank you.” Adam smiled, and enjoyed the sight of Ronan’s shoulders softening slightly.

“I’m sure you can thank me better than that.” Ronan’s pursed lips were quick to form a smirk, and Adam’s heart started its usual round of hopscotch in reaction. 

“Is Opal sleeping?”

“Snoring. Loudly.”

The three feet between them was suddenly far too large a gap, and Adam stood, closing it in seconds. He all but tore Ronan’s wet shirt off, needing maximise skin contact before their lips met. But when Ronan finally initiated the kiss, after hours that were probably seconds, Adam’s felt his knees tingle, threatening to buckle. Ronan’s kisses were like caged firecrackers, a mouthful of popping candy, lovingly whispered death threats. 

Adam’s peripheral vision narrowed, every sense zoned in on Ronan, all Ronan Ronan Ronan until Adam wasn’t sure about anything anymore, all except Ronan grasping at him, his hands more eager than ever before. He could hardly keep track of Ronan’s hands, every place his fingertips had skimmed was branded into Adam’s skin, and when Ronan’s lips blazed a trail across Adam’s jaw, neck and collarbones, Adam gasped like a man breaking the surface of the ocean.

Ronan wrestled off Adam’s shirt, almost angry at the weak cotton separating them. In their brief apartness, a coherent thought fought through the fog, and Adam choked out,

“Opal—might walk out—bedroom—”

Adam hadn’t needed to say it as much as think it, and Ronan’s hand was interlocking with his as he was dragged up to Ronan’s room; the other boy’s face set in grim determination. 

Adam only just shut the bedroom door as Ronan pushed him against it, tongue teeth and lips dancing down Adam’s sternum, across the plain of his stomach—down the small divide interrupted by his belly button. Ronan kissed it—almost affectionately—before fumbling with the button of Adam’s shorts, growling when it didn’t burst open immediately. When Ronan was on his knees like this, Adam could see the tattoo flashing and teasing at the back of Ronan’s neck, twisting into different shapes and images over Ronan’s quivering muscle. 

There was a tinge of nervousness to Adam’s excitement, which managed to make itself known over the panting ache under Adam’s shorts. These were new boundaries crossed for the couple, and Adam wanted to know Ronan wanted this as much as him.

“You sure?” Adam panted, and his boyfriend looked up.

Everything was laid out in that look; nerves, excitement, frustration, and desire. 

“I’m sure.” Ronan replied, finally freeing Adam’s short button. Adam’s butterflies were more like bats, as Ronan shimmied down his nicest underwear—worn for the occasion—freeing Adam’s length. 

Ronan chewed his lip, and Adam was only more aroused as Ronan’s desire seemed to set, his eyebrows drawing in determination. Then Ronan took Adam into his mouth. 

Adam had to lean against the door for further support, as he was overwhelmed by the heated velvet of Ronan’s actions, his mouth entirely unrelenting.  
“Christ!” Adam cried, which only spurred Ronan, a dark chuckle in the back of the boys throat only added to the sensation. 

Adam found his hand on Ronan’s neck, his shaking fingers tracing the intricate lines of Ronan’s tattoo, as though to memorize it. Ronan shuddered a little under the touch, and Adam felt the familiar ecstasy brewing in the pit of his stomach, with a violent intensity he wasn’t accustomed to.

“Ronan, I don’t want to finish—” Adam groaned, pulling his boyfriend from him with much reluctance. 

Pulling Ronan’s mouth to his once more, he didn’t fight the need to make Ronan as naked as him—stripping down Ronan’s jeans without having to look once at the fastening.

Adam laughed at Ronan’s annoyed growl, and Ronan kicked the jeans off his feet with more force than necessary. 

The anticipation was built and quelled at the same time; the first bridge of intimacy crossed with no confusion. Adam knew what he wanted—he wasn’t sure how long he’d wanted—but gauging what Ronan needed was just as important. 

Ronan dragged Adam for his bed, and Adam hesitated, about to confirm, when Ronan groaned,

“Yes, Adam. If I didn’t want to, I promise I’d tell you.”

Taking advantage of Adam’s surprise—he forgot Ronan’s uncanny intuitiveness, as the boy didn’t like to flash it around—Ronan tugged sharply on Adam’s hand, sending them both tumbling for the bed. Adam hadn’t realized his shorts and underwear were still caught awkwardly around his ankles, only making Ronan’s move more effective—Adam landing conveniently on top of Ronan’s writhing figure.

Ronan laughed—a sound that made Adam’s soul lift a few inches, and Adam fumbled for a kiss, wanting the feel of Ronan’s laugh on his lips. 

Letting his mouth tell half of the story, Adam let his hand wander downwards, seeking Ronan’s solid heat currently pressed against his lower belly. Adam’s only thoughts were the obvious quality to the cotton of Ronan’s boxer briefs before his hand dove inside, tightening excitedly around Ronan’s shaft.

Ronan jerked violently beneath him, “Jesusmaryandjoseph.” He inhaled sharply, as Adam fisted him tightly and stroking methodically. Something about seeing the direct action of his movements on Ronan—the way a certain twist or tug made Ronan gasp and twitch—almost sent Adam over the edge himself, as he felt the power he had over Ronan in this moment.

“I didn’t take you for a blasphemer, Mr. Lynch.” Adam growled, a little shocked by the husky quality of his own voice.

Ronan’s voice broke on a gasp, “Oh please, Adam… Christ…Adam…”

“What?” Adam growled into Ronan’s gasping mouth, giving a particularly rough tug that had Ronan shaking.

“I’m ready, Adam. Please.”

Adam wasn’t sure if he could hold on much longer either, even with his current lack of contact. 

“Lube, condoms, top drawer in the bedside table.” Ronan managed.

Adam paused in his assault, leaning across Ronan’s body for the top drawer. Fumbling around, he withdraw the necessary equipment.

Dragging down Ronan’s underwear, Adam couldn’t fight off a smile,

“You wore your nice underwear too?” Adam grinned, spotting the logo in the waistband of Ronan’s underwear.

“Just me, you and Armani.” Ronan teased, shifting his body for easier removal of the last cotton barrier. 

Adam’s fingers trembled as he ripped the foil packet, before rolling the condom on.

“Ronan, are you sure—”

“Christ, Parrish, get inside me already.” Ronan growled, watching impatiently as Adam nodded and fumbled with the sample bottle of lube. 

Adam balanced over Ronan gently, supporting himself on his elbows as he lined up. This moment was so perfectly constructed in his mind, practiced fantasies overlapping. But he hadn’t imagined how Ronan’s weight would feel under him, the feeling of Ronan’s fingers finding their place on his ass, encouraging entry.

Adam shifted forward, and he heard Ronan’s satisfied gasp dissolve into a groan.

“Ronan—?”

“Please.” It was throaty, desire overwhelming the other emotions Adam searched for in his boyfriend’s voice. 

Adam rocked gently, trying to ignore the insistence in his core telling him to pound. It was difficult, and after one desperate throb Adam pushed deeper.

Ronan’s fingers had turned to nails digging in, encouraging Adam, pushing him. Adam pulled Ronan’s lips to his, finding his rhythm and swallowing each of Ronan’s whimpers and groans like they belonged to him. Adam’s mind was completely with Ronan, his senses caught in the space between them—swallowed by the movement of Ronan’s body under his, his gentle encouragements, feeling the boy coil and tighten under him. 

They weren’t kissing so much as sharing breath, too distracted by other dominant sensations to throw passion into their mouth-work. Adam reached down, and it only took a few carefully placed strokes for Ronan to cry out, his body in fits of spasms as his brewing orgasm overflowed, spilling across his torso. Ronan’s only brought on Adam’s, the clenching and tightening breaking what little reserve Adam had left. It was his mind shutting down, stars in the back of his eyelids, and not stopping Ronan’s name as a cry from his lips.

Collapsing—his elbows refusing to support—Adam lost track of the time it took him to get his breath back. The comfort of Ronan’s skin on his, every possible inch making contact, was sensation Adam could happily fall asleep with. 

“Satisfactory?” Adam asked, after an undeterminable amount of time.

“Mmmm.” Ronan groaned appreciatively, sounding drowsy, but sated. 

With a sigh Adam withdraw gently from his boyfriend, standing and stretching his worn muscles. 

“There’s a towel in the wash basket.” Ronan told him, “You’ve got it on your chest too.” 

Adam laughed, in his post-orgasmic bliss, he’d forgotten Ronan’s messy torso.

After cleaning up, Adam crawled back into bed, already missing the sensation of Ronan’s skin on his. 

“Sleep?” Adam asked.

“Sleep.” Ronan agreed. 

**************************************************************

Adam woke too early, quickly realizing they’d forgotten to draw the curtains the night before, and the light from the rising sun had forced him awake. Slipping his hand away from Ronan’s waist, he crept from the bed, making sleep-clumsy movements to tug the curtains shut. 

He also took a moment to admire his naked boyfriend, languidly stretched on the queen bed, not bothering to spare Adam any space. 

As Adam climbed back into bed, shifting Ronan a little to his own side, the boy began to twitch; different muscles seeming to clench and flick as though hooked up to a battery. Adam recognized the movements, and Adam was on full alert. Memories of all things horrid and beautiful from Ronan’s dreams assaulted Adam, and Adam held his breath, waiting for whatever piece of his lover’s imagination might tumble out. 

Adam wouldn’t say the object formed—rather in one moment it didn’t exist, and Adam blinked, and then it did, as if it had always existed.

It wasn’t a traditional ring, more like intertwined vines that looked as though they’d been dipped in gold. Adam froze, his heartbeat increasingly dangerously in tempo as he stared at it, unsure of how to respond.

“I can hear your heart beating from here.” Ronan groaned, his voice rusty from abruptly ended slumber.

“Was it intentional or—?”

“It’s just a promise ring.” Ronan explained, sounding a little—nervous? “I just want all the pretty boys at college to know—”

Adam didn’t answer, grabbing the ring and sliding it forcefully onto his finger. 

Ronan’s reply to Adam’s non-answer was to draw his boyfriend in, and kiss him firmly on the mouth. Words quickly proved even more unnecessary, but Adam didn’t mind.


End file.
